


Muggle Liaison

by plant_boi_potter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, I found this on my laptop while doing something else, Prologue, snippet?, this is never gonna be done but heres a thing, this will always be unfinished
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 20:47:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18454346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plant_boi_potter/pseuds/plant_boi_potter
Summary: Excerpt: “Excuse me,” Harry said, in a voice that was too high-pitched for a man of his age. “Did you say Draco Malfoy was going to be working in Muggle Liaison? With you?"





	Muggle Liaison

**Author's Note:**

> This is honestly just a snippet of something that doesn't exist.

“You'll never guess who's been put down to work under me this year!”   
Arthur Weasley sounded as exited as usual, his eyes twinkling with mirth as he stabbed through a slice of beef. Harry cringed away from him as he spoke, anticipating the knife that barely grazed his cheek as Arthur gestured with it excitedly. 

Ron, however, wasn't paying any attention to his father's latest news. Instead, he was opting for shoving as much mashed potato in his mouth as he could get away with in polite company while simultaneously trying to avoid his wife's impending kick at his leg from underneath the table. 

The tablecloth must have moved a fraction too much, because Molly stilled her with a quelling look. Hermione sheepishly hid her blush behind a mass of loose ringlets, and crossed her legs neatly at the ankles instead. Diligently, she set about cutting her own beef strips until Molly disappeared outside (probably heading for the potting shed at the other end of the garden). 

Hermione's cheeks flushed more when Ron decided to slouch low in his chair, so his stomach disappeared under the table. It wasn't terribly attractive – but Hermione seemed to appreciate that it wasn't her house and technically not her family, so she deigned to comment, instead turning to Harry as if silently trying to find a way to opt out of the family meal. He just shook his head at her empathetically, his fringe falling across his eyes. 

“So?” Harry prompted, turning to Arthur and happily focusing his attention on someone other than Ron's ostentatious girlfriend. “Muggle Liaison Office?” He prompted again, gently, as Arthur seemed to gather his thoughts.

Arthur chased a small head of broccoli around a river of gravy and dripping before fully coming back to the ever expectant table before him. (Aside from Ron, who was busy licking a golden trail of butter from his sparse moustache.) 

“Oh, yes! Malfoy's lad!” He said quite cheerily, spots of colour rising high on his soft cheekbones. 

“Scorpius?” 

Harry wrinkled his nose in puzzlement, thinking about how young Scorpius was and how strange it would be for him to start working, even if Harry's own son groaned on extensively about the youngest Malfoy's affair with Muggle Studies.

“Draco.” 

Ron choked loudly on another bite of potato and Hermione had to reach over to pat him on the back. 

“Excuse me,” Harry said, in a voice that was too high-pitched for a man of his age. “Did you say Draco Malfoy was going to be working in Muggle Liaison? With you?” Harry was struggling to grasp the concept of Draco doing anything Muggle related, especially with someone like Arthur. He was snapped out of the strange vision by Hermione, who had cleared her throat at a volume that wasn't strictly necessary for the quaint farmhouse kitchen.

“Well, we should get going! It's getting late and Ron seems like he's abut to explode!” Hermione said in the cheeriest voice she could muster. Ron seemed to get the hint and started from the table more eagerly than usual. 

“Send my regards to Malfoy.” As she glared down her nose at her husband, yet again, Harry was reminded, quite starkly of Molly. He turned back to his half eaten food and tried not to think about that too much. 

When he next looked up, he was alone with Arthur in the dimly lit kitchen.   
“Do you really mean to teach him?” Harry wondered aloud as Arthur dropped his fork onto his plate with noticeable carelessness.   
“Of course. Why do you fight if you cannot forgive after you've won.” And with that, he spelled the plate into the sink and headed upstairs, leaving Harry alone at the vast expanse of oaken table, clouded in a thick sense of foreboding.


End file.
